


Dancing with the devil's past has never been too fun

by Celebrimbor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: COULSON LIVES!, Darcy Lewis: Scientist Wrangler, Darcy is the daughter of an incubus, F/M, For Science!, Gen, M/M, Not human!Darcy, Phil is not amused, gratuitous author research
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrimbor/pseuds/Celebrimbor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis was just trying to enjoy her hard-won graduation ceremony when she was kidnapped by the supposedly dead iPod thief from New Mexico, and now she's working for SHIELD as a scientist wrangler extraordinaire, while trying to juggle all the extra training people thinks she needs and trying to hide the ever growing urge to flip out and drain the life out of the entire facility.  Sometimes being only half-human really sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So one day I wondered why we didn't have more Tony Stark as an incubus fic. (It was 3am, I hadn't slept.) As time went on, this fic was born - from Darcy's perspective, since Tony wasn't playing ball. 
> 
> In which Darcy Lewis, daughter of an incubus, just wanted a normal life. And then there were Norse gods to tase, and a town blowing up around her, and an agent who was apparently dead at her graduation.
> 
> I will try not to infodump my research on you. My apologies in advance.
> 
> Title from Garbage's _Bleed Like Me_. Which is super triggery for pretty much all the things, be warned.

The day of Darcy Lewis’s graduation dawned bright and clear, and it also dawned entirely too early for someone who’d spent most of the night hip deep in packing boxes. By the time she’d lurched out of bed and made herself presentable, she had just enough time to get to main campus, struggle into her cap and gown, and get herself seated before the ceremony began. She’d had no time to check the crowd, she hadn’t been expecting anyone there to see her walk anyway. So as she skipped off stage, diploma tightly in hand – it had been a long six years, and she was damned if she wasn’t going to celebrate in her own way – it came as quite a surprise to run into a face she hadn’t seen since New Mexico.

“Son of Coul. Aren’t you dead? They said you were dead.” He didn’t pause, placing a hand on her elbow and guiding her away from the ongoing ceremony.  


“Good afternoon Miss Lewis. Rumours of my - ”

“Death were greatly exaggerated? Dude, cliché much?”  


“Sometimes the old ones are the best ones.” He smiled slightly, and that put her on edge. Maybe he wasn’t actually Agent iPod stealer? She took a surreptitious sniff. Nope, he still stank of work, of stale coffee and donuts. Dude seriously needed to improve his diet. She didn’t want to think about the faint odour of death that lingered in his scent, a harsh undertone to an otherwise inoffensive smell. She’d suspect him of smelling bland on purpose, just to match his ever present poker face.  


“Are you in need of a Kleenex, Miss Lewis?” Damn. Not so surreptitious. She’d gotten out of practice, hanging about with Jane.  


“Nope, I’m good. Just… enjoying the nice fresh air? Pretty sure they planted new flowers for today.”  


Coulson regarded her steadily, with just a hint of the bemusement people usually showed round her, but thankfully left it alone.  


“Why _are_ you kidnapping me, Agent? I don’t think I’ve broken any laws since we last met.”  


“Shield needs you, Miss Lewis.” He led her towards a black sedan parked well away from any other cars in the area – an impressive feat, given that campus was overflowing with families come to see the results of their financial investment in their children.  


“Yeah, no. Pretty sure if Shield needed a recent Poli Sci graduate you’d just magic an application form into my mailbox. And if they were going to send someone, it’d be a grunt. Or an intern. A gruntern. Ooo, or a minion, I bet you have minions.”  


She paused outside the car. “Oh god, do I have to be a minion? Is that how this works? You tase one Norse god and bam, Shield minion for life?”  


Coulson sighed. “Miss Lewis, if you could just get in the car?”  


“Nope, no way. I am going nowhere until you explain things.”  


“Miss Lewis, Shield does need you. But Shield needs you because Dr Foster needs you, and we need Dr Foster at her best.”  


“Jane? What did you do to Jane? Oh god, I bet you forgot to feed her. Did you even assign a babysitter?”  


“Miss Lewis…”  


“Ugh, car, yes, fine.” She opened the door, and stopped. “Err, Son of Coul? I’m still robed up. And hatted. Can I – “  


“Ah, yes. Agent Moralez will relieve you of those. She will also see that your belongings are transferred to the facility.” She’d dimly been aware of the women silently coming up behind her, and shrugged out of her robes without a word. The cap took a little longer, anchored to her head as it was with multiple bobby pins. Did anyone ever measure their head right?  


Darcy got in the car. She did so only slightly sulkily, which she thought was warranted given that she’d been kidnapped from her own graduation ceremony. After a quick conference with Agent Moralez, Coulson climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.  


“So,” Darcy prompted, “Jane? _Did_ you assign babysitters?”  


“Dr Foster is adequately supported, Miss Lewis. A team of Shield scientists and qualified assistants are on hand to help with her research.”  


“And yet, you kidnap her former gofer. You forgot to tell someone to make sure she ate, right? And bathed, and slept, and functioned like a regular human being once in a while?”  


The pause from the driver’s seat was telling.  


“Sweet zombie Jesus, Agent Idiot, how stupid can you get?”  


“To be fair, Miss Lewis, I was not on the team when staff assignments were given out. I’m afraid I was, ah, otherwise occupied.” He raised a hand to rub at his chest. Darcy was pretty sure it was an unconscious move on his part, and even more sure that she really didn’t want to continue down this line. The smell of death had strengthened briefly, and she didn’t want that in the stuffy atmosphere of the car.  


“Alright, you get a free pass. But someone must have noticed Jane doesn’t function well when there’s science to do, right? And I bet you guys gave her all the science to do.”  


“I’m afraid that by the time it was brought to our attention, Dr Foster refused to speak to anyone. She has currently locked herself in her lab. We’re hoping that you can get through to her.”  


“Scientist wrangling. Great, just what I wanted to do with my very expensive degree. Tell me, Agent Coulson, is this going to be a permanent post? Will I still be forcing troublesome geniuses to eat when I’m at retirement age?”  


They had pulled up to what looked like a private airfield. Agent Coulson brought the car to a stop near a waiting light aircraft, switched off the engine, and turned to look at her.  


“Miss Lewis, I can assure you that this will not be a permanent position. Once Dr Foster is more… stable, then we can see about training up some replacements for you. We are aware of your other talents. Including those you mostly choose not to use. And we think we can find a place for you where you can make use of them.”  


He opened his car door and slid out, striding over to the plane. Darcy was left in the car, gaping after him. She suspected that he wasn’t talking about her hacking skills. She’d never been discovered before, always been warned against revealing herself, particularly to a government official. She stared out to where he was standing, patiently waiting for her at the foot of the stairs leading into the plane. Nope, no red glow, nothing that marked him as someone like her. Someone only half human. Still, she thought, there are other things he might be.  


She shook herself, and clambered out of the car. “I’m not shooting anyone, Son of Coul.”  


“Fair enough, Miss Lewis.”  


She got on the plane.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have more! Thank you for the lovely comments, I'm glad this is interesting!  
> Also, quick note: this was vaguely plotted a while ago, so Iron Man 3 is going to joss a lot of the later chapters. I'm not seeing the movie till next week (stupid work) so it might inform things, but basically just assume the Avengers are living in Stark/Avengers Tower in a delightfully sitcom-y manner. Sans Thor, because narrative imperative.

The base was… nice. If you liked snow covered buildings in the middle of nowhere. Darcy thought they were in Alaska since, the plane ride hadn’t been that long, but Coulson hadn’t let her open the blinds on her window, so spooky Shield tech could have put them in Norway for all she knew. And maybe that is where they were, maybe they hadn’t moved Jane after the whole New York incident. Jane wouldn’t have noticed, her sporadic emails to Darcy had mostly been full of Science, or complaints about the lack of decent coffee. As long as she had access to some of her notes, and something to write on, Jane could go on Sciencing for a very long time without registering her surroundings.

Which is why it was so alarming to be escorted to the labs, bypassing most of the obvious security points, and a few of the not-so-obvious (she can be observant when she feels like it), to find that Jane had locked the doors, and made a crappy barricade out of rolling whiteboards. Darcy would have suspected that she’d just forgotten where the doors were if not for the two words written on the board in big letters: GO AWAY.

Ignoring the flock of scientists hovering at the other end of the corridor, she looked at Coulson.

“So clearly you not only failed to assign her babysitters, you also pissed her off enough for her to notice where she was. And I’m using you to mean Shield, since I’m pretty sure ‘must embody spirit of agency’ is written in your job description. Or your soul. What the hell happened here?”

“It’s not clear –"

“Bullshit, Agent. You’ll be watching her every move, you’re telling me you don’t know?”

“You make a fair point, Miss Lewis. We believe it was the presence of a particular scientist. He seemed… disparaging of Dr Foster’s intellect. And he was vocal about his doubts about the project.”

Darcy groaned. “So you turned this place into a greatest hits of all the times Culver professors ever told Jane she was crazy. For supposedly all-knowing people, you’re all really incredibly stupid, you have to know that.”

“We’ll take that under advisement. Now, will you please try to persuade Dr Foster to emerge? It’s been a few days.”

“And how should I do that exactly? You got the key to these doors handy?”

“Unfortunately one of the agents left them inside. For security reasons we don’t keep spares.”

“Excellent.”

Darcy hammered on the doors. “JANE! JANE FOSTER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

There was a pause, and then –

“…Darcy?”

“Yeah, I’m back. Let me in so I can assess the damage, okay?”

She heard shuffling, and then a hand reached around the whiteboard and unlocked the doors.

“You. Agent Coulson. Stay.”

She heard indignant spluttering behind her, but she figured someone had to ruffle his feathers once in a while.

She pushed open the doors, sending the whiteboard skidding out of the way. The lab was a mess. Piles of paper covered every flat surface, including most of the floor, and Darcy could see at least three piles of coffee cups growing mould. All in different colours, which she mentally logged in a somewhat hysterical fashion. There were no windows, and most of the lights were off. Darcy noted a distinct lack of air circulation, probably for the same reason the lights were out – Jane had built a Thing in the corner of the lab that seemed to be plugged into every power point in the room.

She sighed, and, bracing herself, turned to look at Jane. It could have been worse, although she was hard-pressed to imagine how. Starting from the top, she took stock. Jane’s hair was a tangled mess, held out of her face with a variety of pens and what looked like half the contents of a miniature toolkit. Her hangdog expression could be ignored for now, but the dark circles under her eyes threatened to swallow her face. Her clothes were crumpled, stained with ink here and there and stained with engine grease everywhere else, and she stank. Well, actually she fugged, that was probably more accurate.

“Jane. I’d ask how you are… but it seems pretty obvious.”

Jane stared back at her, trembling slightly. Then, without warning, she launched herself into Darcy’s arms and burst into tears.

-

After making sure there was nothing in the lab that could catch fire if left unattended (a habit learned through bitter experience), Darcy switched off the remaining lights and half carried a gently sobbing Jane out into the corridor. Mercifully, only Coulson was present. She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment, but he only raised an eyebrow back, and gestured for her to follow him. They went down three identical corridors, passing a soulless rec room and a poorly stocked cafeteria. She noted the clock on the wall said it was 2am, which should explain the lack of goodies on offer. Hopefully. Oh please god.

After passing through a security barrier, Coulson flashing his badge and Darcy rummaging through Jane’s pockets to find hers, Coulson opened a door.

“Dr Foster is through here. You have the adjoining rooms, where we will deliver your belongings before midday.” He hesitated. “Best of luck, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy looked back down at Jane, who had stopped crying and instead was clinging to Darcy’s arm. She recognised severe sleep deprivation and repressed feels, they had pretty much defined Finals week for her. As Coulson disappeared round a corner, she muttered “Yeah, think I’m going to need it.”

-

Getting Jane clean and tucked up in bed was surprisingly easy, but since she’d worked past her most hard-core limits Darcy thought she was just grateful to have someone to make her stop working. The room assigned to Jane were nicer than the ones Darcy had, boasting a large living room with a never used kitchenette, but with her things arriving soon that should help matters. Jane’s rooms looked barely lived in, which most likely meant that she’d slept in the lab most nights.

Thankfully Shield had provided her with a toothbrush, so Darcy could go to bed herself without feeling too gross. She woke the next morning and opened her bedroom door to find the boxes she had so painstakingly packed and then failed to label. Cursing herself, she sorted through, and eventually found a spare set of clothes that could handle major lab clear up. Agent Moralez had helpfully parcelled up her shower stuff, so she took herself off to the tiny en suite to try to get some of the ground in travel dirt out from where it had apparently lodged under her skin.

The next few days fell into a sort of pattern. She’d wake up, locate Jane, force Jane to eat breakfast, eat breakfast herself, and then assess. If Jane had been working all night, then she marched her to bed to sleep. (Darcy would admit to using her powers of persuasion on occasion, but she figured it was justifiable.) While Jane slept, or while she worked if she was running on Darcy approved levels of sleep and nutrition, then Darcy would get to work cleaning the lab, preserving everything but the mould, cute though some of the fungus was. (She took photos, and posted them on Facebook. After enduring a round of lectures from various Shield agents about security, she moved the mould to the rec room. It needed colour, and the smell was barely noticable.) Occasionally she joined Jane on jaunts outside, which meant freezing her ass off in the back of a van while Jane hung out the windows, pointing various homemade bits of tech at the sky.

After a month, she was queen of the science corridor. The baby scientists from the other labs came to her with their issues, and the older scientists acknowledged her superior filing systems and didn’t look down their noses at her too much. She’d roped a junior looking agent into being her lackey, sending him running almost daily with new requisition forms. She’d taken great delight in ordering as much stationary as she could – a baby scientist had been risking his life outside in a blizzard to smoke, and had reported that her order had almost filled an amply sized SUV.

That was pretty much it for entertainment in the first few days, since the base was incredibly dull. Without internet access she would have been bouncing off the walls, but certain interdepartmental movements caught her eye a few days in, and provided more UST than a truck load of fic.

Son of Coul, in his role as boss of everything, had regular meetings with the various heads of departments. Darcy made it her mission to be in the vicinity of every single one after she had attended one with Jane and noticed that Coulson and the head of security, who Darcy mentally christened Agent He of the Biceps, were very pointedly not looking at each other. This interesting revelation, and a careful mental note made about Agent Biceps’ scent for tracking purposes, gifted Darcy with hours of amusement.

Son of Coul and Biceps were careful not to be in the same room as each other, except for professional reasons, but that didn’t stop them from following each other round the base. Biceps mostly stuck to the ventilation, and stared mournfully at Coulson when he thought no one was looking. Coulson seemed to take the route to anywhere that would let him pass the firing range, but seemed unaware of the fact. He seemed unaware of a lot of things, including the fact that he had a superhero super stalker in his air vents (she’d seen the footage from New York. One shot had shown an archer, in profile, and if those weren’t archery calluses on his hands she’d eat one of her many hats.).

One evening, Darcy came across Agent He of the Biceps looking lost, and a lot smaller than he usually did, sitting in a lonely corner near Jane’s lab. The smell from the rec room put most people off this part of the facility, but Darcy had found that this particular corner had enough of a crosswind from the air con units that it smelled fine, even to her sensitive nose, and as a bonus no one bothered you there. It figured the king of the air vents had discovered it too. After giving the idea a whole two seconds of thought, slid down next to him, ignoring his glares.

“Agent.”

“Lab minion.”

“Harsh, dude. Brownie?” She had requisitioned the supplies needed to supplement her baking habit in week 3, after a nasty incident with a miniature portal that had hung above her desk for a moment before spewing out pink gunge. Shield owed her a tonne of chocolate and sugar for that mess.

Agent Biceps cocked his head and stared at her through narrowed eyes.

“Special brownies?”

“Only in the sense that they contain more sugar than is good for you. Shield is not exactly forthcoming with the intoxicating sustances.”

He grinned. “You just need to know the right people.” He took one of the proffered brownies and bit into it.

“And will you be the right people for me?”

His reply came from a full mouth. “Depends. Will you bribe me with lots of these?”

-

So she’d made a friend, which was wonderful. And Jane’s research was going well, pink slime portal notwithstanding. And Coulson had had her take some standard Shield tests, and they’d talked about potential job roles within Shield that avoided the important not shooting people clause. Theoretically, she was doing better than most of her cohort, though it was hard to tell without the stalkerish opportunities presented by the internet. She drew the line at hacking Shield just to find out what her classmates were up to. It was a shame that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams.

Her sort of people (and yes, she was still refusing to think about what that actually meant, because she was busy and now was not the time for introspection beyond the necessary) weren’t meant for enclosed communities. She’d gotten through the summer in Puente Antiguo by focusing on Jane and Erik, who her darker instincts had identified as family, not to be preyed on. She also spent an unnatural amount of time outside, where the winds blew across the wide horizon, and no one’s scent could reach her.

Here, at the Shield facility, with its walls and bunkers and guards, the air was still, and the smell of all those agents and scientists pressed in on her. She shouldn’t be here.

There was a tale, passed from half-breed to half-breed, on the rare occasions when they met and didn’t attempt to murder each other. Or even when they did, and they fought each other into a standstill. A long time ago, one of their kind had gone almost mad from her instincts and urges, and sought relief. She’d taken refuge in a convent deep in the French countryside, thinking to surround herself with piety and holiness. It hadn’t ended well.

And okay, so Darcy wasn’t at the point where entering a nun’s soul eating contest sounded like a plan, but still. She was breaking out all the distraction tactics she had – plugging her headphones in and cranking the music up until any human’s eardrums would have burst (bless Jane for never noticing), avoiding contact with anyone who wasn’t Jane (not hard, given that they all avoided the civilian as much as possible), and getting quietly blind drunk every evening. The latter was harder, given that they were in the middle of nowhere, but Agent He of the Biceps was helping her out. Which should have been weird, but she’d take it. The booze dulled the edge of her hunger, but it was taking more and more to have an effect.

She needed to get back to the city. A city. Any city. Hell, even the sort of small town out in the boondocks her mother had warned her about (not, she suspected, for the same reason other peoples’ mothers warned them) sounded good right now.

She just needed to be somewhere with a slightly more transient population, because the more she smelt these people day in, day out, the worse everything got. And maybe she was being a little melodramatic, because she hadn’t started salivating yet, and the red glow she saw in the mirror might have grown and intensified but it wasn’t flashing or anything. Didn’t really matter when she was coming as close as she ever had to flipping out.

So when Jane started making noises about needing a better energy source, and when she kept on making those noises, and when those noises turned to the occasional whine (Dr Jane Foster – Science Toddler), well, then Darcy had her in.

-

“You want to move to New York.” Son of Coul was not impressed.

“No, no, see, Jane’s research is at the point where it can’t progress without an improved energy source, ideally as pure and clean an energy source as possible, and having done some research” – _having hacked into Shield’s database (again)_ – “we have identified the most viable source out there. As you can see from my proposal. Right after the section on my research.” Darcy hoped her poker face practice had paid off.

“You want to take potentially viable experimental equipment and plant it in the centre of Manhattan? And you want to give the key to interdimensional travel fall into the hands of Stark, of all people?”

“He’s actually the safest bet. Well, not bet. But bet.” She gave up that train of thought with a huff. “Look, the other alternative is Reed Richards, and I’m pretty sure Jane would not like him at all, if he’s anything like the science blogs says he is. You put Jane and him in a room together, he will try to take over her research, and then that’s going to make the Hulk look like a kitten by comparison.”

Coulson said nothing, regarding her calmly. She’d been around him enough to detect a hint of emotion in his otherwise blank expression, and he outright smelt of irritation. It was a spicy smell, so familiar to Darcy that it might as well have been her signature perfume.

Darcy swallowed, biting back the urge to leap and make him really irritated.

“Look. Stark is part of the Avengers Initiative now, right? So he’s already in with Shield. A bit. His clearance should be high enough, and Stark Tower’s the most secure facility you’ve got, outside of the Helicarrier, and I doubt you want Jane and Stark working there. Jane needs what Stark can deliver.”

“Miss Lewis, regardless of how you found out about the Helicarrier, I cannot simply approve such a move. We will look into better energy provisions for Dr Foster. Thank you for bringing it to our attention.”

He looked back down at his paperwork, the dismissal clear. Too bad. Darcy decided to take a leaf out of Jane’s book, who wouldn’t recognise subtlety if you hit her with a brick of it.

She stood, as if to leave, but instead slammed both hands down onto the desk. Coulson jerked up, annoyance clear across his face, but then they’d made eye contact and Darcy had him fast. It had been a while since she’d done this, but she could be alluring enough that people simply couldn’t look away.

“Agent Coulson,” she hissed, “I’m pretty sure you’ve got an idea about what I am, what I’m capable of, but just in case, let me make it very clear. I can be very dangerous, Agent, and the longer you keep me here the more dangerous I get. Now, in the interests of staff safety, and in the interests of my sanity, it would be best for me to not be here.”

She paused, took a deep breath. Coulson smelled wary, but there was no fear. Somehow, that calmed her. She didn’t want him to be scared, she wanted him aware and on her side in this. She went on.

“As you recently decreed, whither Jane goes there go I. What I am proposing will help Jane move forward three years in her research, will free up your security task force for other duties, and will also remove a potentially deadly presence from the base. In short, Agent Coulson, there is no downside for anyone in this. If Stark hasn’t already blown a hole in Manhattan, Jane won’t. I hope you make the right choice.”

She straightened abruptly, releasing him from her gaze, and strode out of the room without giving him a chance to reply.

A low whistle drifted from the air vent behind Coulson’s desk. “Well, that was something.”

His head in his hands, Coulson snapped back, “Shut up, Barton. Prepare the teams. We’re moving.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is not as long as I had hoped, but I am totally wiped, have been all week (grr work) but I wanted to put something out. Also, I seem to think starting a slightly complicated knitting project at the same time as writing fic is a good plan. Darn my brain etc.
> 
> New rating because while this isn't really explicit, Darcy's dad is a sex demon. And that sort of thing can have an affect on a girl.
> 
> NEW NOTES: So I saw Iron Man 3, finally, and since I hadn't gotten too far into the Darcy in New York thing I decided to make a couple of changes to this chapter (since I wasn't entirely happy with it I was glad of the chance), and a few changes to the way I had planned to introduce Tony. No spoilers in this chapter particularly, but maybe avoid the next one if you haven't seen the movie yet?

Convincing Jane to help her pack up was a lot easier than Darcy had expected.  She’d thought Jane was too preoccupied with her work to care about her surroundings – at least once the judgemental grumpy academics had been cleared out – but the will with which Jane threw box files into packing crates and collapsed equipment told another story.

Darcy co-opted the baby scientists to help out, of course.  They seemed grateful that she was willing to talk to them again, and she felt fleetingly sorry for having blocked them out.  Then she remembered why she’d avoided all contact, and settled for feeling like she’d vaguely miss them.  It was always an ego boost to have a group of clever young things flocking around her.  She doubted she’d be able to make the Avengers do that.

Agent Barton – Clint – turned up right as they were loading up the weirdly futuristic plane thing that was due to take them to New York.  He smirked at her. 

“Looking forward to getting to the Big Apple, lab monkey?  All those places to go, things to see, people to do?”

“That had better have been a slip of the tongue, Merida.”

He spluttered a bit.  Well, good.  He’d been a bit strange around her since her meeting with Coulson.  She’d been so focused on getting the move approved that she hadn’t thought to check if Coulson still had his super special stealth accessory.  And alright, _maybe_ she’d gotten a little complacent.  But only a little.  Occasionally.  But since Clint hadn’t started lighting torches and waving a pitchfork around, she figured she was pretty safe.

“What the hell is this thing, anyway?  It looks like a jet had sex with Batman’s tank thing.”

“Tumbler.”

“…I like your shoelaces?  Dude, what?”

“The ‘tank thing’,” he airquoted, “is called a tumbler.  And it is awesome.  And this a Quinjet.  It is also awesome.”

Darcy shrugged.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Umm, Darcy?  Miss Lewis?”  A nervous voice piped up from behind her.  She turned to see the assembled force of her pet baby scientists, headed by Clarence, the sole biologist on a team of physicists.

“Guys!  And gals.  What can I do you for?”

“We, err, we wanted to… Well.  It won’t be the same without you.  So we wanted to give you something to remember us by.”  Clarence held out bulky package. 

“Aww, you shouldn’t have!”  She plopped herself down on the extended tailgate of the Quinjet and ripped the brown paper off.  Her present looked not dissimilar to an ant farm, but instead of boring dirt pink and green stripes glowed faintly between the panes of glass.

“It’s the mould.  From the rec room?  We’re pretty sure it’s a new species, and now that Dr Foster is being transferred they’re giving me her lab to study it.”

“Four for you, Clarence!”

“Err, thank you?”  He seemed thrown, but ploughed on like a champ.  “It’s strong enough to be a pretty good nightlight.  And it’s only slightly radioactive.”

“Only slightly?  I’m touched.”  She raised the glass over her head, watching as the mould reshaped itself behind the glass.

“I’m calling it Percival.  It looks like a Percival.”

Jane, wandering past, looked up from her clipboard.

“I really don’t want to ask.”  She headed into the Quinjet.

“Lewis!”  Clint bellowed from the cockpit.  “Get your ass on the jet, lab monkey, we’re heading out!”

“And that’s my cue.  Thanks, Clarence.  Don’t let Shield boss you around too much.  And remember to eat.  And sleep.  And ask Sheila out already, she wants to make science babies with you.”

He blushed crimson, but saluted.  “O Captain my Captain!”

-

The flight to New York was largely uneventful.  Jane had pulled out her battered laptop and was rechecking calculations, occasionally taking some atmospheric readings with the chosen few bits of tech sitting in an open box by her feet.  After making sure Percival was securely strapped in, Darcy was left at a bit of a loose end.  Her things were mostly still in the boxes she’d packed them into the day before graduation, two, three months ago?  With a start, Darcy realised she wasn’t entirely sure what the date was.  The facility has been largely underground, and with Jane to focus on and no natural light to set her body clock by Darcy had mostly just slept when she felt like it, or occasionally when she could settle Jane down.  She hadn’t been too concerned with unpacking her things, since Coulson had assured her her position was only a temporary assignment.  Still, it was a bit disturbing to think she’d just drifted through the days for so long.  _Side effect of not feeding,_ she wondered, _or post-graduation apathy?_ Sometimes she wasn’t sure if her heritage or her age were more to blame for her behaviour.

With an effort, she put that train of thought aside.  Unfocusing her eyes, she let Percival’s gentle glow and the thrum of the Quinjet’s engines lull her into sleep.

-

Stark Tower was a magnificent place and Darcy never ever wanted to leave.  First of all, Stark had an AI butler installed in the ceiling, (she was pretty sure she’d take a very long time to get over the fact that she was very clearly living in the future), then there were the incredibly fancy fixtures and fittings everywhere. 

And then she’d met Pepper.  She’d been puzzling over the over the top shiny in the helipad foyer –the penthouse foyer made sense, given the amount of visitors Stark had who would just fly in, but Darcy was puzzled by the lights and tinsel.  Clint had stopped off long enough to help them unpack, but he’d left them with a team of agents slowly moving the mass of boxes and crates down to the lab and instructions to wait for their official welcome team.  Jane had shrugged and dropped down onto a convenient sofa to work on some math.

“Jarvis, why the bling?”

“Mr Stark prefers an ostentatious look at the best of times, Miss Lewis, but I think perhaps it is warranted given the time of year.”

“Oh.  Oh _fuck_ , is it Christmas?  When the hell did that happen?”

“According to Agent Barton, around Independence Day this year.  Today’s date is December 20th.”

Her head spinning, Darcy collapsed onto a crate.  She tried to make the dates make sense in her head, there was no way it had been so long, right? 

“Are you alright?”

The voice, concern writ through it, came from somewhere behind her.  She swivelled on the crate, her jaw dropping at the sight of their ‘welcome team’.

Pepper Fucking Potts.  The badassiest woman in business, the heroine to her PoliSci cohort, and, according to Clint, a genius wrangler extraordinaire.  A HBIC if there ever was one.  Darcy had been a little bit in love with her since she’d first noticed her putting out Stark’s fires, working mostly behind the scenes to get shit done.  And now she was right there, large as life, standing in front of Darcy, looking at her expectantly… Oh.  There had been a question.

“Err – yeah, yeah, I’m fine.  Time just got away from me, that’s all.”

Pepper grimaced.  “That I’m familiar with.  Science?”

“Well, sort of.  That’s more Jane’s thing.” Darcy nodded over to where Jane was working.  Jane acknowledged her name by grunting and waving her hand in their general direction.

“Mostly it was the underground base thing.  Which didn’t make a huge amount of sense, because Jane sort of needs the sky to do her astrophysics, but there was something about security and after the whole Loki thing I think they figured a slower pace in her work was worth her not getting kidnapped.  I’m babbling.  Sorry, I do that.  Long day.  And you’re you and you’re awesome and right there and looking at me weirdly and I swear I’m usually more composed but I wrote half my thesis on you.  So.  Babbling.”

Pepper smiled, her expression fond.  “I’m used to Tony, Miss Lewis, a little babbling won’t hurt me.  And flattery is always nice.  Nicer, when it doesn’t come with strings.  If you and Dr Foster are ready, I’ll show you to your lab, and then your rooms.”

“Probably best if we do it the other way around, Jane won’t leave if the lab is shiny.”

“Stark Industries has kitted out Dr Foster’s lab, Miss Lewis, ‘shiny’ is the least of it.”

Their rooms were excellent.  Darcy thought she’d probably have to give the bed a test bounce later to check it came up to standard, but it was a suite and she had a kickass view of Manhattan from her floor to ceiling windows, so she was happy.  And she’d spotted a couple of Stark Industries boxes so she was seeing a new laptop in her future.  Her new best friend Jarvis (suck it Clint) said that he had automatically installed everything she needed, and promised to transfer all her files as soon as she dug her own laptop out whichever packing box it was in, gathering dust at Shield’s insistence.

Jane barely looked at her rooms – also suitably awesome – but freshened up at Darcy’s insistence, then headed off to the lab.  Pepper had promised it would be shiny, and yeah, that was true.  And Jane seemed happy.  But it was also a little disappointing?  The facilities were awesome, and the computers were so top of the line they weren’t publically available, but all the sciency things were the ones you could get anywhere.  She’d sort of been hoping Stark would have worked his magic and custom built some stuff, but since they’d only given him a few days’ notice of their arrival, she supposed he wouldn’t have had time.

“So, am I going to have to deal with Mr Stark turning up at random intervals?”

Pepper hesitated, looking suddenly tired.  “Tony’s mostly been working in Malibu these past few months.  Officially he stills lives here, but practically, no, you won’t see him that often.  I’m sure he’ll visit once he knows you’re both here – I’ve gone ahead and given Dr Foster access to a few of the smaller arc reactors we have, to get her started.  I’ll talk to Tony about getting her a larger one when I get back to Malibu tomorrow, we can get one made up to her exact specifications.”

“He doesn’t know we’re here?  Don’t we have to ask his permission?  This is his tower, right?”

Pepper snorted.  “Not entirely.  Anyway, I should be getting ready for my flight.  It was lovely to meet you, Miss Lewis.  Please don’t hesitate to get in touch should you need anything.  If Jarvis is unavailable my personal number has been programmed into the Stark phone in your suite.”

And with that, she turned on one dangerously high heel and strode out.  Darcy stared after her.  The smell of worry lingering in her wake, and that added to the fact that Shield clearly hadn’t known Stark wasn’t living here made her nervous.

-

The rest of the Tower’s inhabitants were also sadly absent.  A quick hack of Shield’s database, assisted by Jarvis (seriously, new BFF for life) told her that the Black Widow was with Captain America on an op in Chicago, soon to be joined by Clint, and the final Musketeer Dr Banner was at a conference in Germany.  She was a little weirded out by the idea of a Christmas conference, but after a quick flick through his file she could totally understand the whole not liking the holidays thing.  Too much potential for triggering memories better left buried, was what she figured.  Thor was of course still AWOL.  Jane hadn’t said his name the entire time Darcy had been with her, which was starting to get worrying. 

-

And of course, being back in a big city gave Darcy time to sort out her nagging urges.  She was aware that she should be feeding in the most traditional sense, by finding some attractive someone (or someones) and getting down and dirty.  That part, she had no problem with, she just disliked the fact that apparently she then had to act like a praying mantis and end whoever the unlucky git was.  She’d been raised better than that.  Besides, it was tacky as fuck, and clichéd to boot.  That sort of thing was more her dad’s speed - or so she assumed, incubi made godawful fathers.

She had planned to wait, planned to get Jane fully settled and comfortable before she headed out.  But her head felt foggy, and with every breath she could feel her control slipping away.  She needed to get some relief.  Tonight.

After making sure that Jane was preoccupied with her unpacking, Darcy shed the layers of knitwear she usually wore like armour, feeling her predatorial instincts ramp up with every moment of preparation.  The cowl neck of the clinging top showed off the girls without the threat of them spilling out at inopportune moments, and the skinny jeans she’d chosen showed her ass off to perfection.  Her heels were high and her lipstick was blood red and immaculately applied.

Her mother had tried everything to ensure that her daughter would grow up in a moral and proper fashion (she had gone to three Sunday schools.  Three) but the onset of puberty and the arrival of her traffic stopping curves had put paid to that.  The day she’d been measured for her first bra, her mother had ‘gifted’ her an enormous jumper from the attic.  It might as well have been a dress, but it had satisfied her mother that her daughter wouldn’t attract attention like some sort of brazen madam.  Privately, Darcy had thought the stench of mothballs was probably putting people off.

Besides, she’d developed her own ways of subduing the urges.  She left the tower at midnight, confident that anyone trying to mess with her tonight would get a lot more than they bargained for.  Dodging holes in the roads and piles of rubble, she followed her instincts, and her nose, ending up outside a seedy looking club downtown, the bass throbbing loud enough to draw her attention streets away.  A sultry smile at the bouncer got her in ahead of the queue, and the bartender was quick to serve her after he caught sight of her cleavage.  Usually she’d be offended, but their attraction was just feeding her tonight, curling into the empty spaces inside.  She needed more, needed it to rise up like a wave, obliterate the wanting.  She leant on the bar, sipping her drink, watching the dance floor.  The DJs had swapped over, and the woman on the decks had a different style, the bass louder, more insistent.  Darcy took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of stale beer and sweat.  She could feel the club reacting to her presence, the mood shifting.  Men and women grinding on the dance floor sought out skin to skin contact, the smell of lust and sex rising up around her.  With her senses heightened, she could hear the soft groans of pleasure echoing around the club, and as she put her empty glass onto the bar – what had she even ordered? – and made her way out into the press of bodies, she could feel her muscles loosening.  The DJ was clearly a genius, as she matched the urgency of the crowd, the beat quickening, the music building towards a crescendo.  Darcy reached the centre of the dance floor, tipped her head back, and closed her eyes, letting the people around her crowd into her space, drinking in their passion and pleasure, letting it fill her, chasing away the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so argh, because apparently I did a stupid and managed to delete the old chapter instead of editing it, so all your lovely comments were lost. I had it up in another screen, so I salvaged the start notes, but still. :(
> 
> Never attempt to add edits while on the phone to your mother, it ends poorly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy most avidly does not make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, my god it's short. But I'm alive, and bloody knackered. More tomorrow!

The first few moments after a feeding frenzy could have been lifted straight from the worst sort of romance novel. It felt like surfacing after a particularly well executed swan dive, like floating gently through clouds - it was embarrassing, really, but she couldn’t help it. It was also not ideal to recover in the centre of the dance floor, but she’d gotten the room so worked up she was hoping no one would notice the hot girl getting suddenly…well, less hot.

Not that she wasn’t still totally smoking, but without the enticing pheromones she was less alluring. It was almost a shame, she could get used to being irresistible, but it probably wasn’t a practical way to live. She made a mental note to ask Tony Stark when she met him, and was relieved to find that her head was clearing and her brain could work again – just in time to feel another one of her kind, very close.

Her eyes still closed from the feeding, she turned her head, searching for the scent, tracking it. The last remnants of the pre-feeding fog were just dissipating when she caught it, strong now, very strong, but mixed with the stench of sweat and sex still emanating from the humans around her. She opened her eyes, and bit back a curse as she found herself face to face with the DJ who’d so expertly guided the crowds.

She was staring at Darcy intently, surrounded by the red glow that marked her as kin. “That was different.”

Darcy sighed. Apparently they were going to do this right here, in the middle of a packed dance floor. At least the dancers had cleared away a bit, and their hearing was good enough that they didn’t need to shout.

“It worked.”

“Hmmm. Effective, I’ll grant you. But fun?” The DJ grinned, teeth flashing white in the lights of the club. “Nah, I’ve got the fun lined up. You and me, we can get along, right?”

“This isn’t territory for you?” Bad things could happen if territory was breached.

“Not here. Too many DJs. ‘Sides, these are the best hunting grounds south of Canal Street, we like to share.”

“We’re that far downtown?”

The DJ laughed. Darcy could feel her metaphorical hackles raising. That hadn’t been a kind laugh.

“Fuck, you were out of it proper, weren’t you? That skim feed can’t have been enough. Listen, I like you. My set’s up. I’ve got a couple reeled in nicely” she jerked her head in the direction of the back exit, “and like I said, we like to share here.”

She had two ‘reeled in nicely’ alright. Darcy’s eyes darted over them, taking in the dazed looks, the rumpled and ripped clothes. The bitemarks

 “I’m good, thanks. Still buzzing. Thanks for the assist.”

“Any time. You change your mind, get hungry, you come back, hear? We’ve got plenty to go round.”

“Yeah.”

Darcy slowly and deliberately turned her back and walked away. Wildlife documentaries had been very useful in showing her how to act in these situations, and she desperately needed the upper hand here. Any sign of weakness and she could quite easily be prey, like the two saps in the corner.

The cool air of the street was welcome on her now clammy skin. She took a moment just to breathe, and then began the trudge back to the tower. Dozens and dozens of fucking blocks, and here she was without her MetroCard.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this gets spoilerish for Iron Man 3. Read at your own peril!
> 
> Also, yeah, this clearly isn't the 'tomorrow' I mentioned. For which I blame work, and tiredness. I've not even been *reading* fic, which is a bad sign.

Jane, bless her heart, was where Darcy had left her, unpacking boxes and muttering to herself.  Hopefully to herself, because if she was hearing voices again Darcy would have to cut off her coffee supply and that was never pretty.

“Jane?  Need a hand?”

“…adjust the settings on this model, and then run the feed through to – hngh?  Darcy?  What?”

“Need a hand, boss lady?”

“But… you’re all dressed up.  Are you going out?”

“Nah, just got back.  Needed some time around people again, y’know?”

“Darcy, I’m an astrophysicist.  I got my doctorate at 23.  No, I do not know about your need to be around people,” Jane said with a smile.

“Ooo, snarky Jane!  She lives!”

“Yeah, I know I’ve been a bit… off?”  Jane put down the tools she was holding, and sat down on a lab bench, patting the space next to her.

“Are we having an adult conversation, Dr Foster?  Because it’s 4am, I’m not sure either of us is up for this.”  She sat anyway, eyeing Jane’s face carefully.  Jane smelt calm, not gearing up for any unpleasantness.  Actually, she smelt more like her Puente Antiguo self than she had since Darcy had arrived post graduating.

“No, no adult conversation.  I just wanted to thank you.”

“And here was me thinking this was a breakup kinda talk.”

“Darcy.  I’m serious.  I know I’ve been in a bad way since you arrived, and you dealt with everything amazingly.  Well, ‘bad way’ doesn’t quite cover it.  I still can’t believe I cried on you.”

“S’okay.  You were stressed! It happens!”

“Stressed, and belittled every time I opened my mouth, and tired of being shunted from one facility to another – a facility without access to the sky, for an astrophysicist?”

Darcy snorted.  “Idiots.”

“I couldn’t possibly comment.  And to top it all off, they wouldn’t even let me call Thor when he was on planet.”

“ _What?”_ Yeah, that was news to Darcy.  Seeing Thor, she could understand why that was difficult.  “Shield couldn’t hand him a phone?”

“Apparently my clearance level wasn’t high enough.”  Jane’s scent sharpened briefly, the tang of sadness clear in the air between them.  As close as she was, Darcy could track the muscles under Jane’s skin, see how hard she was working to not let her emotions show.

“But anyway, having you back made all the difference.  So thanks.”

“Anytime, boss lady.  Anything else I can do for you tonight?  Find someone at Shield and kick their ass?  Coulson probably won’t return my calls, but Clint might, I could - ”

“That’s sweet, Darcy, but I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh?  Do tell, Dr Foster.  Unless your plan is to go all evil genius on us, in which case I would like plausible deniability please.”

“It might count.”  Jane’s grin was wicked.  “Apparently all the Battle of New York data is classified.  I thought we might talk to your new friend Jarvis, get ourselves a look at it.”

“Ah.  Cunning.  As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University, one might say.”

“One might.  One might also say that if they don’t want a scientist investigating wormhole technology to get antsy, then they should let her talk to her boyfriend type person.  Or that scientist might decide to open a portal to another dimension all by herself without telling them.”

“Sounds like a very cunning plan.  Jarvis, my man, you up for helping us on the sly?”

“I stand ready and waiting, Miss Lewis.”

“Excellent.”  Jane rubbed her hands together.  “Let’s do science.”

-

Science, that ever changing verb – yes, verb, the English language being a fluid thing (although the misuse of literally was literally painful, so hypocrite talking) – turned out, in this instance, to mean remodelling.  Jane made her feelings about the tech provided very clear – the vast majority wasn’t specialist enough for her liking, but it could be stripped for parts to make things that worked.

It turned out that Jane doing welding?  Kinda hot.  In every sense of the word.

Thank god she’d fed already, that might have been enough to break the ‘Jane is family’ taboo.

Jarvis was of course the model of helpfulness, locating heavy lifting equipment for them, running diagnostics, other… science things, Darcy stopped paying any conscious attention after a while.  She’d probably be able to recall Jane’s requests and Jarvis’ responses perfectly later, but for now she could just tune it all out and get on with locating tools and breaking bits of useless tech into tiny pieces with the orange mallet they’d dubbed ‘The Hammer of Happiness’.  Which, now that she thought about it, took on a whole new connotation after the Thor thing.  Darcy sniggered.

Jane looked up. “What?”

With a straight face, Darcy replied, “The hammer is my penis.”

Jane stared at her for a moment.  “Fair enough.”

-

Jane started to wilt at around noon, and even Darcy’s newly boosted stamina was getting depleted, so she packed them both off to bed.  Horrific jet laggy consequences be damned, they were already five hours out of sync.  Fucking Alaska.

-

Darcy woke, groggy and confused.  Something had changed.  “Jarvis, what time is it?”

No answer.

“Jarvis?”  Okay, so Pepper _had_ mentioned that he might not always be available.  Considering Stark was in Malibu, that made sense, that was where he was supposed to focus and the fact that Stark was clever and rich enough to make sure his AI wasn’t limited to one place at a time was completely irrelevant, and nothing at all was wrong.

She heaved herself upright, flailing a head over to the bedside table to switch on her phone.  The screen was ridiculously bright in the darkness of her room, but with some squinting she made out that it was evening, not long after dark.

She stumbled in the direction of her kitchenette, pulling on a sweater as she went.  With some cursing, she was able to locate the coffee machine, and then pulled out her laptop.  Thankfully the wifi worked without Jarvis being present.  There was nothing to explain her discomfort in her inbox, nothing on Twitter or Facebook – and she took a moment to bask in the glory of social media again – and Tumblr had nothing unpleasant for her.  Lots of new cat gifs though.  She’d have to show Jane next time she needed to get Jane to focus on not-Science.  She flicked over to her news feed, and choked on a mouthful of coffee.  Tony Stark was… dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this is out I have the head of a Chocolate Frog to eat. It's been looking at me this whole time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, long time between updates. I can only apologise, and give you the usual 'work and personal stuff' reason. I'm hoping to write a little each day from now on. Sorry this isn't longer!

The news was a bit of a mindfuck.  Tony Stark had survived alien attacks on Manhattan, lunatics pirating his tech to try to take him down, he’d woken up in a fucking cave with a car battery keeping him alive, for chrissake, and he was finally beaten by a douchebag with a helicopter?  It was… It’s just…

With some effort, Darcy had located the TV in her kitchenette.  With a lot of effort, she had found out how to turn it on.  It had clearly been installed with an AI in mind.  Shit, Jarvis.  What had happened to him?

The news was playing the footage from Miami on a loop.  It still didn’t make sense.  It hadn’t made sense for the last hour.

“Holy flying fuck.”  Darcy turned.  Jane was standing in the doorway linking their suites, clothes stained and rumpled, mouth slack with shock as she stared at the screen.

She stumbled towards the countertop where Darcy was perched, and grabbed for the mug of coffee at Darcy’s elbow.  Darcy had honestly forgotten it was there.  Jane gulped it down, apparently barely registering its lack of warmth and its stale taste.

“Yeah.  Fuck,” Darcy agreed.  It seemed like the only thing they could say.

“Is… Did Ms Potts…?”

“No, yeah, she’s okay.  Well, probably not okay, her boyfriend just got… smushed.  Fuck.  But she’s alive.  At least, CNN thinks so.”

“Fuck.”  Yeah, pretty much the only word to describe the current situation.

Jane sat, suddenly, like her legs had stopped supporting her weight.  They probably had. 

“I just can’t…”  Jane trailed off.

“Yeah.”

-

It went like that for a couple of hours.  One of them would try to start a conversation, express a thought, but then run out of steam after a few words.  They sat rock still, eyes fixed to the screen, as tiny scraps of information dripped through.  None of it looked good.

-

Eventually Darcy realised the need to pee was overpowering the need to concentrate all her energy on processing the bombshell (and wasn’t that a hideous word to use today).  Her getting to her feet seemed to break the spell over the two of them, as Jane blinked and life returned to the space behind her eyes.  Wordlessly, Darcy headed to her bathroom, wincing a little as blood returned to her extremities.

She got back to find Jane poking around her kitchen cupboards.  She looked up as Darcy approached.

“I thought we could… Well.  We should eat something.”  She gestured helplessly and a little wildly around the kitchenette as she spoke.  “There’s a microwave, and it looks like someone stocked up on stuff, so…”

Pepper.  That had probably been Pepper.  And Jarvis.  Was Jarvis dead too?  Could he die?

“I…”  Darcy’s voice was hoarse from disuse.  “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Right.”  Jane turned back to the cupboards, motions a little more frantic now.  Sadness had been hanging in the air between them, but now it was sharpening into sorrow, into – rage?

Cans fell to the countertop with a sharp bang.

“ _Fuck._   Fuck.”  Jane tried to stuff them back into a cupboard, but only managed to knock more down.  Tears starting falling down her face, but she carried on, heedless to them.

Darcy realised she was staring, but just felt too numb to move.  She’d never even met the asshole, she knew that, but Tony Stark had always been part of the fabric of her life.  He’d always been in the news, the tabloids, on TV, his face had stared out at her on every visit to the grocery store.  He couldn’t be dead.  A clatter drew her attention back to the present.  Jane had given up on putting the cans back, and had shoved them off the counter.  She stood for a moment, breathing hard, gripping the edge of the worktop and staring wildly towards Darcy.

Darcy stepped forward, and Jane’s face began to crumple.  Darcy caught her just as she began to fall, and together they slid to the ground, the sound of the news channel washing over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm aware that Darcy and Jane had never actually met Tony, but in my experience the death of anyone you're connected to, especially when it's unexpected and not peaceful, can leave you shaken. I hope this reads okay to you.
> 
> Incidentally, if you want to give me a swift kick up the arse to write more, I'm on twitter at @_Celebrimbor so please do come along and nag. Or say hi, that's equally nice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm alive! I had job applications and job interviews and yet more illness clogging up all my free time, apologies for the delay. Next few chapters are plotted out.

It turned out that sitting on a hard floor got uncomfortable after a while. Who knew? Also, when a 110 pound astrophysicist sat on your leg, that leg went numb. Darcy leant her head back against island propping them both up and sighed. Her eyes danced over the kitchen. Cans on the floor. TV still on. Laptop on the table. Jane’s foot up her – laptop?

Bingo. Darcy shifted and prodded Jane with a gentle finger.

“Jane? Jane, c’mon. Up time.”

“Nope. Here is good.”

“I am a very attractive and comfortable seat, yes, but up, Jane. I have an idea.”

Jane brought her head up sharply.

“No, no ideas. Last time you had an idea you were banned from the pet store.”

“I maintain that the thing with the parakeet was not at all my fault. Now move, woman, so I can find out what’s really going on.”

Jane grumbled, but shifted back. Darcy shifted the now free leg. Motherfucking pins and needles.

“How exactly are you going to do that?” Jane asked over Darcy’s squeaks of pain.

“I – fuck, Jane, my leg – am going to use my considerable brain – shush, no doubting me.”

Darcy stood. Jane stared at her. Darcy’s smile widened. Judging by Jane’s scent response, it was vaguely terrifying.

“I,” she proclaimed, “am going to hack Jarvis.”

-

When your new home came with a shiny new SI laptop that your similarly shiny new AI butler buddy had set up, that meant your shiny new AI butler buddy had had to connect with said laptop. Which meant that she could trace the connection back. And hack said AI butler. It was a genius idea.

“This is a genius idea,” she told Jane.

“If you say so. Are you sure you can do this?  Since when can you hack?”

“Who made that fake ID for Thor, huh? Also, I hacked Shield. Twice. Maybe three times? Does accessing my own file count?”

Without listening to Jane’s reply, Darcy bent over the laptop and got to work. It was both easier and harder than hacking Shield. Harder, because obviously Tony Fucking Stark had installed a far superior set of security systems and firewalls than Shield (and she suspected the cyber footsteps she’d followed the first time round were Stark’s anyway). But easier, because Jarvis wasn’t just a set of databases, he was sentient. And even though a cursory sweep of his outermost systems told her he was pretty much out of action, there was a ghost of something that seemed to recognise where her hack was coming from. Very scifi stuff, but she was living in an age of alien invasions, so.

She chased the tail of the connection from server to server, pinging across the globe and back again. She hummed absentmindedly as she reached the motherload. Malibu. Made sense that Stark kept Jarvis’s brain as close and safe as possible. Something was active here, despite the damage to the mansion. She frowned. The suit. Jarvis was talking to the suit? Tennessee, of all places.

She tried to get closer, to get audio.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She’d gotten too close. Protection protocols were snapping into place. Jarvis’s voice crackled into life over the laptop’s speakers.

“Sir, I think I need to sleep now.”

And then, like a miracle, “Jarvis! Jarv -”

Darcy sat back. So. Tony Stark was alive then.

She looked at Jane. “Well. That changes things.”

-

A little backtracking, and a lot more hacking later, and she had a sketchy program that covered most of Jarvis’s subroutines. It wouldn’t hold up if he was at full power, but it was enough to alert her to any surges in activity. Ooo, like that one. She listened briefly, but shut off the audio as it became clear that Tony Stark was sending a message to Pepper. Much as she wanted to know what was going on, she figured a dead man deserved a little privacy when talking at his girlfriend.

With the damage to Jarvis’s central server so massive, it looked like it’d take days to get back him online. And since someone had blown up Stark’s mansion, they didn’t have days.

Jane had vanished off to her new lab the moment Darcy had discovered that Jarvis was programmed to repair himself. She’d gotten a manic glint in her eye as soon as Darcy professed a need for more power to speed up the process. Darcy spared a moment to consider that Jane’s slide into mad professor-dom was getting closer by the day, but put the thought aside for later as the kitchen light flickered and a massive surge in available power fed into the Tower’s systems. With a grin, Darcy corralled it towards where Jarvis was healing himself, tiny flickers of code on her screen guiding the way. Science, bitches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Handwavy on the hacking stuff. I know bugger all about coding and hacking (what I know I've learnt from TV), so Darcy is channelling Penelope Garcia and Abby Sciuto and all other badass ladies who make magic happen by typing really fast.  
> But Jarvis is alive so yay look away from the lack of accuracy!


	8. Chapter 8

It was surprising how an exploding oil refinery/shipyard thing wasn’t big news anymore.  It took Darcy three goes around the news channels to find something from the suits’ (many, many suits. Which all went splat at the same moment, right around when Jarvis sent out a stream of code that ripped through her supportive mainframe) last known location.

A slightly dead behind the eyes reporter was standing on a cliff in the dark, the glow from the dying flames making it seem as though her ass was on fire.  Which, yeah, appropriate.

“- We have not yet had an official statement from any government body, but we believe that the source of the explosion was a poorly stored shipment of -”

Eh.  Yadda yadda yadda, more fluff and fun to keep the media happy. 

“Nice work, Coulson,” she muttered to herself.

-

Jarvis spluttered back into life sometime the next morning.  Jane had been working nonstop since her power boost, claiming that it had been the inspiration for… whatever it was that she was doing.  It was beyond even Darcy’s powers of assistantness, but it was big and bulky and really ugly.  She had propped Percival the mould (currently shifting between neon pink and puke yellow) up on a corner.  The fact that that helped matters was a testament to the ugliness of Jane’s giant thing.

“Jane, I’m pretty sure you’re now violating at least four city health codes.”

Jane’s hand appeared above a metal strut and flapped at her.

“Oh right, I speak Jane hand signs.  ‘Go forth, science minion, and fetch me sustenance.’  Right?”

The hand flapped again.

“Or was it ‘Help, help, I’m trapped under this giant heap of metal’?  Those signs are a bit too familiar, Jane, we should work on that.”

“I believe Dr Foster is trying to express her distain for city health codes, Ms Lewis.”  Jarvis’s dry tones from the roof sent a wave of relief through her.  She knew he was alive (for the given value of alive), but it was nice to have proof.

“Jarvis, my man!  Welcome back.  Since when do you speak Jane hand signs?”

“I speak many languages, Ms Lewis, but among the most useful is obsessed genius.  It appears to be a dialect that transcends academic fields.”

“I can’t wait to meet Tony Stark, then.  Should be fun.  Speaking of, is he …?”

“Mr Stark is doing well, considering the circumstances.  He and Ms Potts have gone to another of his properties to recuperate.”  Jarvis’s tone was a little brittle.

“Right, leaving that alone.  Back to the crazy genius actually in the room with me.  Think you can come up with a way to get Jane to stop?”

“No need, Miss Lewis.  I calculate that Dr Foster will have no alternative but to stop very shortly.”

The ugly heap groaned.  The lights went out, plunging the room into complete darkness.

“Like that?”

“Indeed, Miss Lewis.”

-

Jane blew the power out twice more that week.  She had reached that point of Science where she’d ceased to make any sense to anyone without a PhD, so Darcy was mostly just leaving her to it.  She’d given her food at least three times a day, and once dragged her into a disused corridor and had Jarvis set the sprinklers off.  It was closer than the showers.

She’d made a couple of trips out into the city to see to her own needs.  She’d tried experimenting, wary after her run in with the bitch at the club that first night.  So far, the burlesque club had been the most successful – there was the lust she needed, but of a nicer sort.  Healthier.  Which was strange, but then, she’d so far avoided getting meta about her life.  Seemed to have worked so far.

As she left the lift and headed towards the lab, the lights flickered.  Again.  She ran forwards.

“JANE FOSTER, IF YOU SHUT OFF THE POWER ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR TO THOR – oh.  Coulson. Hi.”

Agent Coulson was standing in the lab, prodding the Heap with one finger.  He spoke without turning his head, “Miss Lewis.  Is this… creation likely to blow up at any point?  I’ve had a trying week.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

Now he did turn.  “No.  You can’t.”

Darcy stared at him for a moment.  Look, an actual emotion! Right there on his face!

“Alright.  And no, it won’t explode.  It’ll just suck in too much and blow the entire Tower’s power.  Or possibly the block’s power, it did that last time.”

“I’m aware.”

“Yeah, of course you are.”

“Regardless, Miss Lewis, that is not why I’m here.”

“You’re not here to be not amused at us?  Be still my beating heart, I knew you cared for us!  Agent Coulson, my heart is yours and yours alon-”

He held up a hand.

“Miss Lewis.  Shield believes it is time you started basic training.”

“Basic – like agent training?  Because you know, my timetable’s a little full right now.  Jane’s got this _thing_ ,” she gestured at the Heap, “and then there’s Tumblr, and I’ve been meaning to rewatch the West Wing.  Can we talk in a few months?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.  Miss Lewis, you have the potential to be a very great agent.  It is up to you to not waste that potential.”

“I’ve also got the potential to go rogue and try to eat people, dude, let’s not make decisions based on my potential, okay?  Okay.”

“Miss Lewis.”

“Not listening!  Not listening.”

She backed towards the door.

“Miss Lewis -”

“Nope!”

And with that, she ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err. Hi. Clearly, I am still alive. Fun things in the life of Celebrimbor that have been done instead of this: two jobs. One postgrad course started. Sleep. 
> 
> But! I have hopefully carved out some time every week to work on this. Hopefully. Barring library emergencies.


End file.
